Untitled

I was perusing the folder on my computer filled with my writings and came across this old gem. Never could think of an appropriate title for it. God I am a pretentious little shit aren't I?

I scream out a victorious yawp,
From the depths of my viscera chasms.
I am at the crux of my existence.
The travail of all this is supposedly
The transcendental form of life.
My skeletal structure is being masticated,
In the arctic, Lilliputian teeth of this machine.
This primal instinct is ever pervading.
The feeling of raw, unfiltered energy
Penetrates the essence of my being.
The stoma extends to a snout,
My contrivances for chewing,
They acuminate for laceration.
My limbs become stuporous and anesthetized.
They crook, arc, bow, and deviate
From their prior angles.
Finally their curvature sets
Simply to the inverse of their original position.
I gyrate, reel, and undulate,
Suffering from the affliction of a paroxysm.
Throughout my epidermic layer sprout,
Atramentous and ashen tinted vibrissae.
This is the omega rung in my metamorphosis.
With all my vigor and no restraint,
I extricate myself from the belly of the mechanical beast.
To manumit myself from this construct,
And transcend the layers of the Inferno.
I begin to respire...
And the gustation of artless air streams in.
Dynamic energy flows abundantly.
It wafts, waves, whisks, and whirls about me.
Inexorable sensations and cosmic vibrations,
They ring throughout my protoplasm.
I tumble to the clement ground,
And pant out of exultation.